


Candy Smile

by orphan_account



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: 707 is in love with mc but, F/M, Masturbation, One-Sided Attraction, POV 707 | Choi Luciel, Pining, Unrequited Love, but lets be real if ur looking at this fic u already played it all, id say v ending spoilers and, kinda angsty rip, mc is in love with V womp womp :(, seven name spoilers in description, takes place at the end of V route, the smut is light its mostly about feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 03:18:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21190694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It was impossible, really, for Saeyoung not to fall in love with her. Her bright, candy smile was the only warmth he had left in the world. But kindness can be cruel - her heart belongs to someone else entirely. Caught between his overwhelming feelings for her and overwhelming hopelessness, Saeyoung keeps the truth hidden and tries to do his best as her friend. But that's easier said than done.





	Candy Smile

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this all in one sitting at like 1am idk the idea of luciel and mc being eachother's support after the events of V's route has left me with Thoughts and I ended up with this drabble, hope u enjoy and that it lowkey kind of hurts bc it hurt me while i was writing it. seven im SORRY.

Her arms were so tight around my shoulders. She was so warm, and smelled faintly of fresh apples. She was enveloping me, soaking me up, enclosing me in this bubble of warmth. I let everything that was twisted up inside of me go and sobbed into her hair. She whispered my name again and again, between spurts of soft nonsense that didn’t really mean anything but steadied my heart anyway. _It’ll be okay, Luciel. You’re safe, Luciel. _

Of course, I fell in love with the only warm thing in my world. I’d never been so vulnerable, so stripped bare, in front of anyone. Not even V. Why… why did my wall crumble so feebly before her? Was it because I had nothing left? Maybe it was because she was the last person to be close to my brother. Because when she heard that he wasn’t coming back, she cried with me. Huge, wet tears. Her face crumpled, like mine. I got the feeling that she was the only person apart from myself who had loved him at all in his whole life. His short life.

But her heart, though big enough to hold me in it too, didn’t belong to me. She would smile these big, candy smiles at me when I answered the door, a basket of homemade meals in Tupperware boxes hooked on the crook of her arm. Sometimes, she would leave after she had unpacked them and traded out the old boxes (I sometimes flushed guiltily at the heaps of leftovers I had failed to eat) and we had talked over warm drinks. Other times, though, she would stay for a bit longer, and we’d watch a film or go for a drive. A few times, she dozed off on my couch or the car seat. This gave me time to study her face and the dark hollows around her eyes, caked in a layer of makeup – a futile effort to conceal them.  
_Why can’t you come home, V… your home is right here._ I thought, watching her brows draw into an anxious bow as she mumbled his name. I gnawed my bottom lip, trying to distract myself from this feeling of bitter, bitter jealousy. I didn’t have a home to return to anymore, yet he had abandoned his. _Why can’t you say my name instead?_ I would think, and one time she did. I was sure my heart had stopped beating in my chest altogether. She had strung the syllables together in a stuttering whine that made my stomach twist. What exactly she had dreamt, I guess I’ll never know.

“It’s easier to sleep here,” She told me, upon waking from one of her unplanned naps. “I feel safer.”  
“Because my house is a bunker?” I joked.  
“I feel safer with you.”  
Her smile was so innocent, but God, she was tearing me to pieces without even realising it.  
“You’re welcome to sleep over here anytime.”

I didn’t really expect her to take me up on the offer. But one night she appeared at my door, dishevelled and her breathing ragged. It was not long past 2 AM, and I was still up working. The house had felt eerily quiet. Just the whirring of computer fans, the rhythmic clacking of keys I pushed too hard on. I was glad of her unexpected visit.  
“The nightmares, they just won’t stop.”  
I pulled her into one of the hugs she had swaddled me with so many times before.  
“You’ve been through a lot.” Was all I could say to her. Her shoulders sunk, defeated, and she nodded. I ushered her through the hallway, and helped her wriggle from her coat. It was too long for her arms; it belonged to V. Before he disappeared, he left her in charge of his every possession. She must have been so lonely in that house: surrounded by everything to do with the person she loved except for the man himself. I feel sorry for never visiting her, but I still can’t quite bring myself to forgive V. Maybe that’s just an excuse. Some part of me is terrified of how I’ll feel seeing her surrounded by him. Like she’s a part of everything he owns. A stinging reminder that her affection belongs to someone else.

It became a little bit of a habit for her to appear at my door when she couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t all that often, but often enough for me to move a trunk with spare duvets and pillows into the lounge. Draping the comforter over her and propping a pillow beneath her head would be the highlight of my week, or month. Each time I did, my chest throbbed. It made me feel good. Like I was protecting her. At least, returning a fraction of the care she had offered me. I noticed she would sometimes slip one of V’s letters under her pillow. Jealousy reared its ugly head again. 

* * *

This time, she reaches out to tug on my hoodie before I leave. I turn back to her, one eyebrow arched.  
“Don’t go this time,” she pleads.  
“I have to get back to work…” I mutter. She peers up at me, eyes damp.  
“Well… maybe I can bring a laptop and work in here for a bit.”  
She smiles, her eyes crinkling in the corners. Like cellophane, like a candy wrapper.  
I can feel her eyes on me and I can’t focus. “Stop staring…”  
“Sorry,” she mumbles. “I’m just glad you’re here.”  
“Get some sleep then.” I smile back at her.  
She drifts off quickly, her breath steadying and her mouth forming a cute little ‘O’.

Utterly exhausted, I close my laptop and sink back into the couch. The rest of this task can wait until the morning.  
I’m about to retire to my room, when a shaky voice emerges from the soundly sleeping mound on the couch.  
“Jihyun…” she exhales. I feel the familiar twist of jealousy in the pit of my stomach. I continue my retreat to the door, but freeze when the name is followed by a wanton moan. I feel blood rush to my face and my pulse quickening. A hitched breath and a small whine. I want to get as far away as possible but I can’t move. A disgusting mix of jealousy and lust surges in me, and I hate myself, _hate _myself, for my desperation to hear more of those sounds. I clutch my chest as if trying to steady my heart. Another string of breathy moans as she shifts in her sleep. I finally gather the resolve to scurry away from the room, shuffling down the hall and into the bathroom. I know I shouldn’t, I _really_ shouldn’t. But I’m uncomfortably hard, and I can’t help the way my imagination is spiralling out of control. I rifle the cabinets until I find the lotion I’m looking for and lather my hands with it. I reach into my boxers and my hand curls around my length, already desperate for relief. I pump myself eagerly while I replay the delicious noises in my head. Her name spewing from my lips, I find myself imagining her hand around me without even realising. My mind casts back to how she whined my name in her sleep a few weeks prior, and I feel my cheeks heating up. My imagination fills in the gaps, and it doesn’t take long before my tumbling release washes over me. Spent, I sink to the bathroom floor and hot, salty tears spill down my cheeks. _I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry…  
_The feeling of guilt and self-disgust is suffocating. _I’m in love with you, and I don’t know how to make it stop._

**Author's Note:**

> dang it really be like that. I hope u enjoyed / suffered!  
thank u for reading and have a great day!! kudos and comments are always extremely appreciated :v  
best wishes~


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